"You were so amazing!"
"Thanks, you want me to sign that for you?"
"Thank you I've been waiting ages to see you in something."
"Oh really? How long?"
"Years."
"Well that's nice."
"I'm your biggest fan."
"Really?"
"Can I come to your apartment?"
"Excuse me?"
"Can I come back to your place?"
"Umm, I'm really sorry but, I don't let fans into my personal space."
"What if I showed you these?"
"Where did you get those?"
"I can come now?"
"Where did you get them?"
"I'll take that as a yes."
Arnold leapt up immediately at the sound of his doorbell, dodging his wife a little clumsily to get there quickly.
"Hey, Chris, it's you," He said breathlessly stepping aside to allow him enter. "And you brought James, ok."
They took off their coats and came into the living room, greeting Naba as they sat down.
"What is this? The resistance?" Naba smiled at the boys who returned smiles with effort.
Arnold set mugs in all their hands and then gestured to a wall, all the furniture moved away from it, covered in photos and clippings. "I collected all the stuff that might help us."
"What've we got so far?" Chris got up and leaned into the various pieces of print, squinting at the photos.
"Not much."
"What we need is time and also something to prove that Connor's real killer is still on the loose."
"It's almost like we need to commit a murder," James chuckled wryly, "Or fake one."
There was an awkward pause as they all thought about what James had just said.
"I'll get everyone refills," Naba said, more to break the silence than anything else, swooping to pick up the mugs and disappearing into the kitchen.
"I was joking," James quietly apologised, "But you know, just splash some blood around my place, I could disappear for a while. It would be easy..."
He'd been looking down at his mug, fiddling it with his fingers, but as he trailed off he glanced upwards. They were both staring at him.
"Say it like you mean it," Chris said quickly.
"What?"
"How would you fake a murder? Like you were doing, carry on."
"Umm, a lot of blood, a fake murder weapon, the person would have to vanish, and then I'd make sure to frame someone..."
Arnold turned to the wall and ripped off one of the pieces of paper to look at it more closely.
"They found chloroform in his room. There was tonnes of blood, I saw it myself."
"They can't have tested all of it, maybe it wasn't all his."
"Some of it must have been, they found traces on the knife, and there was some hair."
Naba came back with the renewed mugs of tea just in time to hear that line, she promptly turned back the way she came.
"So maybe he wasn't killed, maybe he was kidnapped..."
"But by who? And who'd want to frame Kevin?"
"This is a nice place you've got Connor."
Connor smiled uneasily at his unexpected guest. He didn't mind really, but chinese takeaway with Kevin and then a show did seem the more preferable option.
"Drink?"
Connor looked confused. "Sorry I don't have much to offer."
"No, it's ok, I brought some."
His visitor produced a bottle of champagne. "Do you have glasses?"
"Yeah, but...why?"
"I just thought we should make a toast."
"To what?"
"To celebrate these." Connor looked at the items his guest had tossed on the table, the same he'd been shown at the stage door.
"I'm no ordinary fan, if I should call myself that at all."
"I guess not." Connor picked one up off the table and stared at it. Several thoughts were rushing through his head, most importantly how had this man got hold of these? They wouldn't be much good for blackmail.
"I have more."
"I don't need to see anymore," Connor looked up quickly.
"I'm sorry we had to meet this way. Over these. I'd imagined it differently."
He popped the cork of the bottle, prompting Connor to produce two glasses.
"Who's that?" He gestured to a photo on the wall over Connor's shoulder. Connor turned around to get a better look.
"My mother, I'm surprised you don't recognise her."
"Oh yes, I see now. Here's your drink."
Connor turned around to accept the drink the man handed him. Connor took a sip and immediately wrinkled his nose. He placed the glass back down on the table.
"Sorry, old habits die hard. I never much liked the taste of alcohol."
"Well there's only one way to get over that, you should drink more." The man laughed nervously pushing the glass back towards Connor.
Connor eyed it with faint distaste. He wasn't the same Mormon he'd been, he did sometimes drink, but hardly ever and never very much.
"Sorry, I can't."
"Please."
"No."
"For me."
Connor raised an eyebrow at the strange desperation in the man's voice. He played with the glass in his hand for a few moments then replaced it.
"No, sorry."
"Oh, well who's that?" The man pointed at a photo behind Connor.
Connor turned around, his back to the man, to identify the photo. He smiled.
"Ah, well, that's my boyfriend Kevin. That was taken just after we-mmph!"
